Of Cheap Ties and Unmatched Socks
by Rachel J. Lupin
Summary: Zeke meets the parents, and everything goes swimmingly. SharpayZeke.


This is one of several little fictions that I've done for my Sharpay/Zeke fifty prompt challenge for hsm100 at Livejournal. If you enjoy this, and want to the read the others feel free to go to my author profile, click on the link to my website, and it should be pretty easy to find the table from there. Otherwise, enjoy.

Also, I own nothing, but that really goes with out saying.

Standing outside the Evan's home wearing a black suit and a painfully askew light blue tie, Zeke Baylor decided that the events that were about to unfold would never equate to his idea of a good time. As he contributed to his unkempt appearance by impatiently pulling on his tie, the temptation to escape became his predominate thought. With sweat beginning to form on his forehead, he rocked back and forth on his heals, just barely displaying his one black and one brown sock, anxiously wondering how long it takes an Evans to answer a door for an occasion such as this. However, after what seemed to him be a century (and several gallons of sweat), he finally heard someone moving behind the door, and it opened to reveal his girlfriend.

"What took you so long?" he gasped as he walked inside. She responded by rolling her eyes and attempting to straighten his tie.

"I had to make sure _I _was the one to answer the door." Zeke stared blankly in confusion, and Sharpay explained, "In case you weren't presentable." She studied him while she continued to try to fix his tie. "You didn't bring cookies did you?"

"You said this would be easy, that as long I dressed up they'd like me. You said the cookies were _optional_," Zeke quickly responded, his voice rising significantly in pitch with each statement.

"I lied," she said, and, in response to his incredulous look, she continued, "You _like_ to bake, I thought that if I gave you the option you would just do it." He did not appear satisfied with this response, but Sharpay ignored his chagrined expression and stepped back to inspect him before saying, "Well, _I_ find you presentable, even without your cookies. And this horribly cheap tie."

"Umm, thanks?"

She responded with a small smile and looped one arm through his as she directed him to their dining room, all the while continuing to scrutinize his appearance. A few feet prior to their destination, Sharpay abruptly stopped, unhooked her arm from his, stepped back and, with a look of disdain, harshly whispered, "Your socks don't match do they?"

With a glance down at his feet he quietly stammered "Um, no. I-I couldn't find any that did." She shook her head in response, and he leaned closer to her and apprehensively whispered back, "Does it really matter? We are going to be sitting. They won't even see my socks."

There was some rustling in the dining room. Sharpay pulled on his arm, bringing him closer to her as she continued to whisper, "Trust me they'll know, and it will matter." She trailed off for a few moments, still holding on to his arm. "I wonder if Ryan would let you borrow his socks," she murmured so quietly that Zeke had to bend down to hear her.

"Sharpay?"

"Yes?"

"Why are we whispering?"

This question awoke the girl from her thoughts and forced her to realize just how close they were standing, and that, for once, with the way he was leaning down, she would barely have to tip-toe to reach him.

These were, of course, conclusions that Zeke had reached moments earlier, and with their new proximity, he had forgotten all about his nervous impulses and mismatched socks.

Sharpay moved her free hand to his other arm, and as he began to close the small gap between them she slowly started to explain "My parents…" and she would have finished with, "are in the other room" if she had not become otherwise occupied.

"Excuse me."

The two jumped apart to face a scowling father in an old brown blazer.

Zeke felt as though he may have just become one of the youngest people to ever have a heart attack.

But, while Sharpay attempted to smooth out the situation, her small hand found its way to Zeke's, and, as she dramatically explained to her father that she had just been making sure that Zeke's breath was fresh, Zeke was only able to concentrate on the hand that he held in his own.

After Mr. Evens calmed down, everyone finally sat down to dinner, and her hand still hadn't left his. So, as he was grilled about his goals by Mr. Evens, tested on his knowledge of theatre by Mrs. Evens, and mocked for his inability to match socks by Ryan, all Zeke could think about was how Sharpay's hands were really just the perfect size, no matter how tiny they seemed next to his. And she didn't once let go, even though he felt like his hand must have been dripping in sweat.

After the torturous meal was over, the two stood on her front porch, both facing forward, her hand still in his.

"They hate me." Zeke stated.

"You should have brought cookies."

"They don't think I'm good enough."

With a smirk and a nudge Sharpay replied, "You aren't." He rolled his eyes, and she continued, "I'm fabulous."

"I guess I can agree with that." He said as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in front of him so that she faced him.

"You know, this is the kind of behavior that got us in trouble earlier Mr. Baylor," Sharpay noted with a smile as her hands found their way to his shoulders.

"It was worth it," was Zeke's smiling reply, and, I suppose, it is quite easy to guess what happened after that.

The end.


End file.
